


Of Laces, Layers and Lazy Mornings

by fairveretian (LWritesx)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Boys In Love, But not the kind of pillow talk you're expecting., Childhood Trauma, Communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lazy Mornings, Love Confessions, M/M, Married Life, Morning Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Pillow Talk, Suicidal Thoughts, graphic descriptions of past csa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LWritesx/pseuds/fairveretian
Summary: Damen's never really paid attention to it before. But he's starting to notice. Veretians, while they wore their clothes laced and sleeved, never really wore their clothes high-necked, like Laurent did.They dressed themselves impeccably, paint on their faces, bodies covered in jewels.But Laurent... Laurent never wears any, save for a ring on his finger, and a gold cuff on his wrist.One morning, curiosity-driven, Damen asks why.Which leads to them opening up about Laurent's past, their parents, and surprise confessions.
Relationships: Damen & Kastor (Captive Prince), Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Laurent & Regent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 143





	Of Laces, Layers and Lazy Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> For warnings-- it's captive prince, so canon style warnings. Warnings for talk of past rape (the Regent), Unfaithfulness (King Theomedes), death.
> 
> Basically, I just wanted to write a one shot where they talk about their traumas, and begin the process of healing and letting go. This is my first CP work and I'm still getting used to writing Damen and Laurent's dynamic, so please don't hesitate to call out anything you may feel out of character. I also very rarely write smut, so I apologize in advance if it's bad.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> **note- not beta'ed**

_"Having made the decision to let Damen in, Laurent had not gone back on it. When the walls went up, it was with Damen inside them."_

_\- c.s. pacat, the summer palace_

Laurent makes a soft sound of sleep as he buries himself further into the warm, naked chest pressed against his face.

He feels it move softly, up and down with a huff of laughter, a kiss pressing against his forehead. Inhaling deeply, he allows his eyes to blink open, frustrated that the sweet surrender of sleep has abandoned him.

He meets the hazel-brown eyes of his husband, staring down at him, index and middle fingers caressing his cheek.

Laurent yawns, and is freed from Damen's tight grasp. He moves onto a pillow and stretches, his naked body rubbing against the silky maroon sheets, all evidence of last night's mess cleaned up by his husband's careful, meticulous hands.

Damen keeps looking at him. Laurent knows _that_ look. He doesn't have the time to say anything before Damen rolls on top of him, pressing his lips gently against Laurent's. He makes a soft noise of surprise, which Damen smiles at. Damen nips at his bottom lip, and Laurent allows him entrance, allows Damen to kiss him more passionately, more deeply. What started out as a tender morning kiss grows into something more.

"Damen," Laurent gasps, when his husband takes one of his pink nipples between his fingers, rolling it between them until it's hardened with desire.

_"Damianos."_

"Let me take care of you, Laurent," Damen says, kissing Laurent's jaw, his neck, until he tilts his head back, allowing Damen better access. He closes his eyes, taking in the different sensations, not caring that they've just woken up from sleep, not caring that they should probably be doing this after they've freshened themselves.

Although he's covered in marks and bruises from last night's love-making, he's sure Damen would leave fresh, darker marks on his pale skin. He loved having Damen mark him-- it meant that Damen enjoyed his body as much as Laurent enjoyed his. And the fact that his husband enjoyed his body was a fact that he was very, very proud of.

He unconsciously spreads his legs beneath the sheets, placing them at the side of Damen's hips, letting the evidence of his eagerness touch Damen's abdomen, absorbing the grounding feeling of Damen's large, callus-riddled hands keeping his hips steady.

"Fuck me, Damianos," he almost whimpers, making a sad attempt at grinding himself against Damen, "Fuck me, make love to me, take me, I don't care what you do, just--"

It was too early in the morning for Laurent to try to maintain any semblance of control.

"None of that, sweetheart," Damen chides _so_ _sweetly_ , still marking Laurent's neck, sighing against soft skin.

He moves down Laurent's chest slowly, taking the same amount of time, focusing his attention on each nipple; teasing and nipping. He keeps moving downwards, and his head gradually disappears beneath the covers.

With Laurent, Damen had learned slowly, the slower he touched him, the louder he got. He'd discovered this on their wedding night, when he took his time, making love to his husband so slowly that Laurent was reduced to nothing more than half broken screams and sobs of pleasure and ecstasy, coming so hard that he was unable to move for a solid few minutes after.

Damen had kissed him softly and held him while his body shuddered with aftershocks, coming down from the high. After, when he'd taken a tired, pliant Laurent to the baths, he called on a few servants, letting them put soothing oils and fragrances in the heated water. He cleaned and dressed his new husband as though he were a delicate piece of china (which in his state, he was), before taking him to bed, allowing them both to retire for the night.

The morning after, none of the guards posted outside their bedroom door would meet the royal couple's eyes for a month.

It was one of his favourite, most treasured memories. 

He's thinking about it now, smiling against Laurent's hips, before focusing his attention on what lay between them, the most intimate, aroused part of Laurent. The covers were long abandoned, Laurent watching as Damen stuck his tongue out, licking a slow stripe from base to head, swirling his tongue around the tip that was wet with further evidence of Laurent's arousal, before sliding his mouth down.

Laurent's hips bucked violently, and his eyes slid shut. Damen's hands kept him in place. Slowly, he repeated the motion. Laurent's eyes remained stubbornly shut.

"Look at me, Laurent," Damen commanded softly, and his husband did just that, eyes peeping open in flashes of blue. Damen's mouth went down again, and he hollowed his cheeks, sucking in earnest, his brown eyes never leaving Damen's blue ones.

"Damianos," Laurent gasps, Veretian accent growing thick, " _Yes_ , Damianos."

Damen takes in the sight above him, his husband's blonde hair splayed across the pillow beneath his head, like a golden halo, his blue eyes slipping shut, biting his lip as if to hold back a moan, legs spread apart at the sides of Damen's head, Laurent's ring and cuff adorned hand yanking on his hair, back arching gracefully on the bed.

And---

\----It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Come for me, Laurent," Damen says in low Veretian, when he swallows the tip once more.

"Damen," Laurent cries out, " _Please_."

"Don't think, sweetheart," Damen coaxes, before sliding downwards at an agonizingly slow pace, so far down that his nose touches the trail of fair hair below Laurent's navel, "Let go. Come for me."

And Laurent does. His hips stutter and cries of Damen's name makes its way out of Laurent's mouth, while he holds onto Damen's hair as though it's his lifeline, spilling in hot, thick ropes.

It's salty and bitter in his mouth, but he swallows it all.

"Good morning, Laurent," Damen greets once he's next to Laurent, and pecks him once on the lips.

"Good morning, lover," Laurent greets, blue eyes blinking lazily, looking sated and glowing in the beams of sunlight that shine through the velvet curtains, "Do you need--?"

"No," Damen says, holding up a hand, "This was for you, not me. I know you've been stressed lately-- with organizing the trade delegation to Patras."

"Yes. It is unfortunate that I have to spend all day in my library, when I would much rather be spending time with my husband," Laurent replies, frowning.

"We are kings, sweetheart. We have duties to our countries," Damen says.

"We have duties to each other as husbands, too," Laurent sighs, "But I am eternally grateful that you've brought me here for the week. Have the servants not yet come in to receive their orders?"

"I sent them away when you were asleep," Damen smiles down at him, "I had them bring in a rather large breakfast tray, and they are under orders not to disturb us unless they are summoned. The guards, too."

"Good," Laurent yawns, rising from the bed.

He looks at himself in the full length mirror at the corner of the room, taking in all the purple and red marks on his pale skin. Biting his lip, he places his had on the deep purple hand print on his hip.

"Is it--Is it too much for you?" Damen asks, looking guiltily at Laurent's reflection, "I try be gentle, but when it's you, I always--"

"Lose myself," Laurent mumbles, finishing his sentence, "I know. It's the same for me. But it's not too much. When you hold me like that, I feel grounded. Anchored. I-- I like it."

Damen smiles widely, thrilled at his answer, "Come back to bed, Laurent. We have the week."

"In a minute. I need to find some clothes and freshen up" he says.

"I probably should, too," Damen frowns, getting up from the bed.

They enter the adjoining bath together. The King's chambers were almost an entire wing of the castle. Laurent had mentioned to him that he was glad to finally get more some privacy here, as opposed to what little they had back at the border palace.

Damen steps into the bath behind him, picking up the wash bowl, soap and cloth. 

"May I?" He asks, gesturing to Laurent's body with a hand.

His husband nods shyly, stepping down into the bath water. Damen washes Laurent's body with soft, gentle hands. He does the same with his when he finishes. After, he gets out of the water.

"Are you finished?" He asks Laurent, amused.

"No, I think I'm going to soak for a bit," Laurent mumbles, reclining into the water.

Damen shrugs, exiting the bath.

When Laurent emerges from bathroom a while after, he's wearing a plain white under shirt and pants. His blonde hair, which he'd cut before they left the palace, hung in waves over his forehead. Damen, wearing a fresh ivory and red chiton, has already remade the bed and opened the curtains and balcony doors, letting even more sunlight in. The fresh ocean breeze circulated around their room, cooling it, and Laurent could hear the call of the birds down on the coast.

He slides back into bed, next to Damen, tucking himself under the larger man's shoulder.

Damen inhales, taking in Laurent's scent. He always smelled like vanilla and cocoa, the scents of the lotion he used to keep his skin soft. Other times, he smelled like leather and forest when he spent the entire day with the horses at the stables, or like old books and fresh ink when he spent his days in his library. Regardless, Damen liked it.

"Have I ever told you how much I love it here?" Laurent sighs.

"You tell me. Constantly," Damen says, brushing back a few strands of blonde hair, "I am glad that this makes you happy."

It's a minute or two before they lie back on the bed, facing each other.

"It's been a year," Damen tells him.

"Since the Kingsmeet?" Laurent replies gently interlacing their fingers, "Where has the time gone?"

Damen closes his eyes. He can remember it like it was yesterday-- the awful sound of swords being drawn, the Regent saying calmly, _but he has knelt for me,_ the guards dropping the Regent's insignia, standing with Laurent. The council listening to the words of Paschal and Loyse, Herode kneeling before Laurent, addressing him by his proper title: _my King_. And then there were the memories that came after; descending into the slave baths, looking for Kastor, sword drawn. The blindingly numb feeling of betrayal when his brother, who was supposed to love him, ran him through with a dagger. Kastor's life slowly leaving him as he lay bleeding on the other side of the baths. Laurent in that ridiculous, once-white chiton, kneeling by his side, refusing to move until they sent for a physician, until he knew Damen would be okay. And then their first little getaway to the summer palace.

Everything they accomplished in the few months after- Laurent ascending the Veretian throne the day he turned twenty-one, constructing a new palace along the border, in the centre, where the two countries joined. Starting the process of unifying their countries. Relocating the capital and court of the unified kingdom to Delpha, where the palace was easily accessible by all citizens. Forging new alliances with the other neighbouring kingdoms.

Then, there was the long, tedious process of marriage-- arranging treaties, trade deals. Arranging what traditions would take place during the ceremony, which traditions would take precedent. How their joint rule would be established. Heirs and succession. They were able to be married around six months after Laurent's ascension, after all parties were satisfied with what they were gaining. Their Honeymoon was spent in the open palace in Ios, and lasted three days before they were expected back at Delpha. 

Laurent, amazingly brilliant Laurent, was holed up in his library for hours at a time, carefully planning and preparing to execute a careful, delicate deal to end the keeping of slaves and pets, a deal that was still in progress. People were not too happy about that one, but once Laurent set his mind to something, he was going to get his way. Damen knew first hand that he could be quite persuasive when he needed to be.

And Damen, who was happy to oversee the general and everyday running of the kingdom. He held audiences, planned taxes, listened to his people, offering fairness and openness in his suggestions. He and Nikandros personally oversaw the training of the King's Guard every day at sunset, without fail.

With input from Laurent, Nikandros, Makedon, Lady Vannes and Jord, they hand selected a new government and council, picking the bravest and most loyal. New Kyrois were appointed for new Provinces, together with new banner men. He promoted those who were recommended by Nikandros and Makedon for promotion-- who gave outstanding service in helping him and Laurent take back their thrones.

With Lady Vannes, they both sat and came up with a sustainable budget for the kingdom. Changes were happening, slowly but surely. And Damen and Laurent, they were at the head of these new changes-- the Fair Kings of Akielos and Vere. Where they were met with resistance, they quickly took care of it. Akielons and Veretians were slowly getting rid of stereotypes they held of each other. Both cultures were merging into one- the way they spoke, the way they dressed, even their cuisines were merging.

And Damen's never really paid attention to it before. But he's starting to notice, since the cultures are mixing. Veretians, while they wore their clothes laced and sleeved, never really wore their clothes high-necked, like Laurent did.

They dressed themselves impeccably, paint on their faces, bodies covered in jewels.

But Laurent... Laurent never wears any, save for a ring on his finger, a gold cuff on his wrist, and sometimes a circlet under his blonde hair, signifying his rank.

"Damen?" Laurent asks, softly, "Where are you?"

"Sorry," he says, sheepishly, "I got lost in my thoughts."

"Would you pass the tray?" Laurent asks, sitting up, "I feel like I could eat some sweetmeats."

Damen nods, placing the tray from his night stand between them. Laurent takes a morsel between his fingers and places it in his mouth, chewing.

"I've seen how Veretians dress," Damen comments, curiously, "With laces and paint and jewelry, but I've never seen Veretian dress quite like you. Why is that?"

Laurent freezes, and he notices.

"Do you not want to talk about it?" Damen asks.

"No," Laurent says, frustratedly, putting away the rest of his sweetmeats, "I want you to know. We are married now, and I want you to know me. I want you to know everything."

"It was meant to protect me," he admits, quietly, "From the Regent."

"Protect you? How?" Damen can't help but ask.

"I thought, if I dressed as plainly with as much laces as possible, maybe it would make him stop noticing me," Laurent says, closing his eyes as if in pain, "I thought if he stopped noticing me, then he would forget about me. He wouldn't touch me anymore. Auguste was able to protect me from him until-- until Marlas. After my brother died, I was just so sad and alone that I just needed someone. Anyone. He was there. I thought-- The first time he came into my room, I was thirteen. I thought he was coming to tuck me in and say goodnight, but he gave me a goblet filled with a drug-- that's why I can tolerate it now-- I thought it was water, so I drank it--"

Damen watches him with wide eyes. Laurent's opening up and telling him everything, and the atmosphere around them is so tense that Damen is afraid to even breathe.

"And then he laid in bed my bed with me. I still don't know what happened that first time, but when I woke up, I was bleeding and hurting. Paschal saw to me and told me what happened. I was sick for that entire day. The next night, he came in my room again. I screamed and tried to fight him off but he tied my hands and covered my mouth. It just kept happening again and again, until I got so tired of fighting," Laurent clenches his fists, nails pressing into skin, "So I stopped fighting him. And then I turned fourteen, and he began giving me jewelry to wear."

"He asked me to wear them for him as though-- as though I belonged to him, as though I was his _Pet,"_ Laurent sneers, "He told me I would look so much more beautiful if I wore his emeralds. It made me sick. The night I turned fifteen, he was drunk, he came inside my room and shoved me to the ground, on my knees. He held my my head between his hands and pleasured himself with my mouth. After that, He tied my hands to the bed post, stuffed my mouth with a cloth and put his filthy jewelry all over my body and took me. He-- he you know, he did it inside me, and told me that I was his, that I would always belong to him, that he was sick for enjoying it but I deserved it for being so stoic and rebellious and _so fucking tight and young and beautiful and innocent-looking_."

"I was desperate and I hated myself, Damen. I thought it was all my fault, and I just wanted-- I wanted my mamma and papa and Auguste," Laurent sighs, "I'm ashamed to admit that I had one of my most trusted kitchen servants bring me a cup of spiked wine. Paschal stopped me from drinking it. He convinced me to stay and fight for my throne. And when I turned fifteen, the Regent decided I was too old for him, so it stopped. And as stupid as it may seem, I kept wearing the high necks and laces, because I thought it would keep him from seeing me. I can't wear jewelry because just the sight of it takes me back to that night and I just get so sick and upset---"

Damen feels sick to his stomach. If the Regent wasn't already dead, he would have had him arrested and punished slowly for interfering with a young, defenseless child. Hearing all of this, he decides that the Regent died too quickly. He should have suffered for making an emotionally vulnerable child think about doing the unthinkable. It gave him some satisfaction, at least, that the last face the Regent ever saw was his victim's-- was sweet, strong Laurent's.

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Laurent," Damen says, softly, "I know that this isn't easy for you to talk about-- but if there's ever a time I do something that reminds you of him, tell me, alright? I never want you to hurt like that again. Does the wedding ring and cuff bother you? It isn't a big deal if you take them off."

"I will," Laurent says, "And no, they don't bother me. They remind me of the happier times in my life. My circlet doesn't bother me either, because that was given to me by the council, on behalf of my mother, when I turned eighteen."

It's quiet. They were talking deeply now, about serious topics for the first time in their marriage, the tray of delicacies between them forgotten.

"I have a question for you, now. You said your mother planted the gardens here, yes?" Laurent asks, suddenly, "Why do you never speak of her?"

"I have no memories of the late Queen," Damen frowns, "She departed this life the night I was born."

"You've never asked of her?" Laurent says, surprised.

Damen's still frowning, but answers, "I don't... I've never really felt connected to my mother. Maybe it was because she died when I was so young and I have no memory of her. I don't know. But it's hard to mourn a person you have no memory of. So that's why I never asked about her. I feel most connected to her here, in the summer palace, because that's where she lived most her life."

"She didn't live in Ios with your father?" Laurent asks, observing an apple before biting into it.

"My father was never faithful to my mother during their marriage," Damen says, "My mother was a daughter of a noble, with bloodlines tracing back to the first Akielon king. Of course, she became the best prospect for a marriage. At that time, Hypermenestra had just been promoted to a Lady of the Court, but her station was too low to be worthy of marrying a king. When my mother and father got married, there were five pregnancies before me. My mother couldn't carry a child to its full term."

"My father grew tired of trying with her, eventually, and fell back into Hypermenestra's bed. Kastor was born. He was set to be the heir, judging by the way things were going," Damen explains, "From what I heard, even though my mother was okay with my father and Hypermenestra, she was understandably hurt. So she escaped to here. To get away from watching the king, his mistress and their child playing happy family, to get away the struggle and judging eyes of the court, of the country, of everyone who wanted to know why Queen Egeria couldn't give King Theomedes a blood heir. And then something happened here-- my father had to come to see her."

"And then you were born?" Laurent guesses.

"And a few months later, I was born," Damen confirmed, "My mother died hours later, and my father never spoke of her again. Here is the only palace you'll see that has any true memory of the Queen of Akielos."

"I'm sorry," Laurent offers.

Damen smiles softly at him, "That's why I swore to myself that I'd never let my marriage end up like theirs. I'd always be faithful to you, and only you. As long as you would have me."

"I would always have you, Damen," Laurent says sweetly, looking at him with sincere blue eyes, "Though this helps me understand your brother a bit more."

"Imagine you were raised knowing that one day, everything would be yours," Damen says, "Then to have it all ripped away from you ten years later. It is understandable why he resented me."

Laurent says nothing for a while, processing his words.

"I've never felt that way towards my brother," he tells Damen, "All my life, I've grown up knowing that Auguste was to be king. I would just be Laurent, his little brother who loved books. Auguste would rule and bring the heirs. I'd read the books and advise him. My mother--"

Laurent cut himself off with a sharp breath.

"Laurent," Damen almost pleads-- this is the most open Laurent has been about his life before, and Damen _wants_ to know.

Taking a deep breath, he starts again, fiddling with the cuff on his wrist, "It wasn't a secret that Auguste was my father's favourite. He loved me in his own way, I know, but Auguste was the heir, so obviously, he spent most of his time with our father. But I was my mother's favourite. When she didn't have to hold court, she would sit with me in the library and read to me for hours. She'd braid my hair, and we'd have tea in her parlour. On summer evenings she took me out to ride as soon as I was old enough to sit on a saddle. We would play hide and seek around the castle for as long as we could."

There's a private, wistful smile on Laurent's face, and there's never been a moment Damen wished he could paint. Until now. He would do anything to capture that smile on Laurent's face forever.

"She was from Kempt, and she had long blonde hair. It was fairer than mine, and she had big grey eyes, unusual for her background," Laurent says fondly, "But she was lovely and gentle and kind and she loved me more than anything. She would have done anything for me, and there was nothing I wouldn't have done for her."

"How did she die?" Damen asks, quietly, "We heard that she had departed, but no details were given."

"Influenza," Laurent says, just as quiet, "Two months before we were due to go war with Akielos, there was an outbreak of Influenza. Her lady's maid had been taken ill, and she stayed with her until she died. Then my mother began to show signs of it. The influenza, coupled with the stress of the war... she didn't last four weeks. When she died, it was as though the candle that kept Vere warm had suddenly been extinguished. Everyone was grieving, and my father couldn't think. I often wonder if that's why he rushed into the war."

"Sometimes I don't know which is a worse fate," Laurent mutters lowly, an afterthought, "To see your mother dead and be buried before you, or to grow up with no memory of her at all."

And Damen hears a small sniffle. When he looks at Laurent, there are crystal tears running down his pale cheeks.

"Oh, sweetheart," Damen says, pulling him into a comforting hug, "I'm sorry, I didn't wish to hurt you by talking about any of this."

That makes Laurent sniffle harder.

Damen wonders when was the last time he'd had a proper cry, or if he'd ever gotten the chance to grieve for the innocence that was ripped away by the Regent, his uncle. Someone he was supposed to trust, who was supposed to keep him safe. He wonders if Laurent had ever gotten the chance to properly mourn his mother, his brother, and father-- his _family_. 

"When I was sent on diplomatic missions for my father, she would always be there to welcome us. She was fierce, and brave and loyal to her country without a fault, just like you. She would be so happy for you," Damen says confidently, "So happy and proud of you, of who you are, and everything you've achieved."

Those were the most comforting words he could offer right now. And he could also give Laurent privacy, safety and warmth, a chance to grieve, undisturbed by the world, so that's what he did. He held his husband, running a hand through his hair while he sobbed. Like this morning, Laurent buried his face in Damen's chest.

"Thank you, Damianos," Laurent whispers, "I'm so happy to have you, I--" 

"Think nothing of it," Damen whispers back.

"There's this vow Kemptian royalty say to their spouses," Laurent confesses, "It's usually done the day after the wedding, privately between the couple, but I didn't-- I didn't want to do say it before I knew in my heart that I was ready."

Damen feels his heart beat a bit faster, "You don't-"

"But I do," Laurent says, meeting Damen's eyes, taking his hand, placing it against his heart, "I'm ready. I'm more ready than I'll ever be."

"I, Laurent of Vere, sixth of his name, King of Akielos and Vere," he says, voice low, "Give this vow to you, Damianos, King of Akielos and Vere."

He pauses, taking a small breath, switching to Akielon, "When there is no more to be offered, I shall give you the first sip of my wine. When in the throes of pleasure in the night, yours shall be the name that I cry. When you soar, I shall strive to soar just as high. Where you fall and stumble, I shall carry us both with all of my might. Where you cry, with my hands I shall soothe you and comfort you. I shall stand at your side as your equal in marriage. With all my heart, this is my vow to you. I promise to keep this vow in the utter reverence and respect that it deserves with all that I am, until the day--until the day that I die."

"I love you, Laurent," Damen blurts, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, feeling the heartbeat of his husband beside him, "I love you so much."

For the past year, they've been skirting around the words. Damen knew that he'd always loved Laurent, but now more than ever, Damen is absolutely sure he can say the words, knowing that he fully means what he's saying.

"You don't have to say it back now," Damen says, "But I wanted you to know, that's how I feel."

Laurent's voice shakes, as he says, "Oh, but I do, Damen. I do love you, otherwise I wouldn't have given you the vow. I love the way you provide me with the answers I don't even know I'm looking for. I love the way you love me. I love you because you're handsome, and a brute, but you're a kind brute with a heart of gold and a gentle, kind spirit. I love that you trust me. You're tall and smart and you make me laugh. You're perceptive, and sometimes I feel like my heart will explode because of the amount of love I hold for you. I-- Oh Gods, somebody stop my mouth from saying words."

His face is a bright red, looking all of his twenty-two years old.

Damen laughs and does, by pressing his lips against Laurent's, in a tender, soft kiss.

Laurent sighs and kisses back, feeling free for the first time in a long time


End file.
